


And Thus

by AshToSilver



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retirement, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshToSilver/pseuds/AshToSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The real question is - was it worth it to be the last monsters at the end of our time?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Thus

**Author's Note:**

> A short prompt fill for an anon on tumblr.
> 
>  **EDIT Aug/2016:** I have changed my username, I am now going by AshToSilver on AO3 and [my new Tumblr](http://ashtosilver.tumblr.com/)! You can still call me Alex, but I no longer have a day of the week in my name.

Dawn breaks on Gotham like a wave cresting over sand; something a hundred times more powerful then the doings of men, continuing on a millennia old routine while brick dust and funeral smoke salts the air. Light washes over red pavement, and the busying bodies of various officials, marking another day, another lapse before night.

It was almost painful to watch.

Years had passed beyond acknowledgement since the dawn’s light had forced him away, again and again from half-cold trails and suffering wounds. And still now, the urge to leave, even if only to walk out the door and say he’d done it, was tugging at his bones, calling and calling.

But he made the effort, and sat, watching the sun laze slowly over glass and stone. Sat and traced roads and skylines with a fondness that came from running those lines a hundred times over.

He smiled, as a shadow detached itself from the roof of a nearby apartment building, and slunk away to make way for the day shift, the last trace being nothing more then a black cape teasing the wind before there was no sign that his successors had been there at all.

The faintness noises of movement behind him soothed his nerves, and a moment later, slim fingers breezed down his shoulders, along old scars and still strong lines of muscle, followed a moment later by the arms of his nemesis, winding around his neck and giving him a squeeze.

“Scheming much, old bat.” Came the silky purr in his ear.

“Hardly.” Bruce murmured. “Merely remembering darker days.”

“Now that’s just a matter of perspective.” The Joker replied, and slid away to seat himself on Bruce’s desk. “I think you’re just burning the midnight oil so you can fess over data feeds and bemoan your grounded state.” The clown gave his old adversary a toothy grin.

Bruce smiled back, resting a hand on the Joker’s knee. The muted dark purple suit didn’t give him half the manic air he had held onto for so long, and age had softened the edge further, graying green hair and adding lines to white skin.

Those teeth and that smile still spoke of unimaginable horrors, but it mostly went unnoticed. There were so few monsters now.

“What’s that look for?” The clown poked at Bruce’s nose. “My fly’s not down, is it?”

“You ever get the feeling we’ll be the last monsters to die?” He asked, tightening his grip out of habit. “That the world will be swept clean, until the only thing left dirty will be the tools you used to wash in the first place?”

The clown didn’t say anything, no decipherable expression on his face.

“I think I’m almost scared of it.” He admitted, to the early dawn light and a partner he has every right to hate but  _doesn’t_. “I’m scared that I’ll have done all that work, and I’ll be remembered as some sort of  _villain_.”

“Its reasonable.” Came the soft reply.

“Selfish, perhaps.” Bruce countered.

“Its also right.” The clown said, reaching out and giving some nail-biting squeeze in return. “Maybe we’ll both be remembered as little more then bad bedtime stories. Maybe the only people to remember what we’ve done will be those little leaping brats of yours. Maybe they’ll strike us of the history books entirely.”

He paused, gave an old ear-splitting grin. “The real question is - was it worth it to be the last monsters at the end of our time?”

“Undeniably.” The old bat replied.


End file.
